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Fiction by Pen

Healing Hands

This story was written for the Sensory Overload Challenge. The story prompts used to inspire it are listed at the bottom of the page.

Another day, another bunch of freaks. Better get the room sorted before the first one arrives. Why the hell the cleaners can't put things back where they found them I don't know. Trying to prove they've actually done some work in here. Hah.

So. New name, first on the list. Let's see... Okay, nothing special, just a hand job, should be no problem. Gives me some time to get a few notes done while she sits with her paws soaking. Unless she wants to talk. God. Never mind, I don't have to listen. It's Thursday!

Another fat cow. Why do people with their skin turning to crud always have to be obese as well? Don't they have any self-discipline? Great big lump, all soft and bulgy. She could be pretty, if she only tried. The red hair looks natural, and it curls. At least it's short. Probably doesn't grow well, being that fine. Skin's all right, actually, not bad at all, no raw patches on the face. Very pale and not too many freckles. Probably never goes out. Lazy cow, she should try a bit of exercise.

Oh? Walked here?

I just have to make up the solution for you. There—temperature all right? Yes, hands into the basins, please. Ew. Seriously scaly. Actual splits in the skin. I dare say that's quite painful. God, she's dull. Her fiancé must be brain dead. She hasn't got anything interesting to say for herself. Expect she works in a supermarket or something. He's probably the man who checks that the shelves are being filled. I'm not going to ask. I mean, do I give a shit? Yes, that's right, dearie, you shut up and let me get on with my admin.

Seeing Breck tonight. Mmmm. God, he has good hands. And stamina. Shall I wear the thong or the lacy ones? Which skirt am I going to wear? Slutty or completely slutty...

Hands out, dry them off a bit on the paper towel, now flat on the glass, please, and I'll apply the UVA. The ultra-violet light. Only a few seconds each side, since it's your first time. There, that wasn't too painful, was it. See you on Monday. Yes, twice a week. Same time okay? Keep them out of the sunlight for the rest of the day.

* * *

Walked again? In this weather? Do you not drive? Oh—trying to lose weight. For the wedding. Of course. That's why you had to see the doctor about your hands? Want them to look pretty in the wedding photos. Lovely. Just dunk them in the solution. Yes, I know, it doesn't smell particularly nice. Very artificial, yes. Jesus you silly cow, this isn't some witchdoctor's establishment full of weeds and extract of rose petals, this is a fucking hospital, of course it smells artifuckingficial. Oh yes, you get used to it, working in here all day. Yes, very satisfying, it's nice to see people get better.

Not as nice as Breck going down on me, but can't make a living doing that. More's the pity. Wouldn't want to be a tart, even if the money's better. Never get gorgeous ones like Breck and Gareth, only fat slobbery losers with nothing to offer but money. 'Sides, I'd have to please them all the time. No getting off for me! Fuck that.

What did you say? Sorry, no, I was in a dream. Yes. Yes, I have got a boyfriend. Boyfriend, Jesus, what are you, six? No, not planning to get married. I'm enjoying the single life, yes. Well, of course you want to hang on to the poor sod you managed to catch, I mean, what else are you going to do? Can't see you dancing your fat arse off at Nightshade with four different guys buying you drinks! How long—what, three years with the same bloke? Christ, aren't you bored? Isn't he bored? Yes, isn't that lovely. Getting a house together, by the canal? That's nice. Actually it is nice, I'm surprised they can afford somewhere like that. It'll be one of those tiny little places with no back garden. Picnics on the deck next summer, lovely. Christ, how domestic.

Catch me settling for one bloke. Gareth tonight. Though that David from Eyes seems interested. Funny, I thought he was queer. Good looking nurse, always chatting to the daft old ladies with their cataracts like they were best friends, had to be queer. But apparently not. He was definitely looking at my tits this morning.

Onto the glass, that's it, palms up first, press them as flat as you can. You know the routine.

See you Thursday. Don't forget to wear gloves.

* * *

Oh, you're wearing your engagement ring today, then? Don't like to leave it at home, don't blame you. Very nice. Yeah, actually nice. Who'd have thought it? Square emerald and two diamonds and white gold, pretty classy, looks expensive. Stacking the shelves must pay better than I thought. Yes, put it on my desk while we do the treatment. Don't forget to put it back on again afterwards!

They are beginning to look better, yes. No, the smell doesn't get any pleasanter, but you know. Yes, used to it. No, some people have to go in the full-body booths. Yes, you are quite lucky really, if it's only on your hands. Psoriasis all over your body would be awful, yes. Jeez. They really are disgusting, fucking lizard people come in here for treatment. Makes it really easy not to care about them—never get involved with a patient, hah! Like I needed to be warned about that.

So the wedding's in four months? Your local church—oh, your parents were hoping you'd go for a church wedding, were they? Yes, the music is better in church. I suppose the words are nice, yes. Solemn? Okay so long as you have a really good bash at the reception! Right, a real family party. Waltzing? You have to be kidding! Oh, just for the older ones. Right. With you now. And it's traditional. Of course.

Shit, I think she broke my brain.

No, no, still happily single. Actually yes, there's a new man, been seeing him for a couple of weeks now. David. Here, in the hospital. Yes. No, he's a nurse. And definitely not queer! No, no, I haven't finished with Gareth, we still see each other. Don't want to be exclusive, not at my time of life. How old am I? None of your business, you cheeky cow... lemme check your notes. Date of birth... Huh. Two years younger than me. Oh, well, no, different people have different needs, if that's what suits you. Hard work? God, no, not nearly as hard as being married would be! Coming home to the same face every evening, same hands, same mouth, same cock, same fucking technique, I'd be insane after a month. Even if it was Breck. I only want more of Breck because he's rationed. Every Thursday unless he's away... God, I love Thursdays.

Oh, so what do you do on Thursdays? Choir! Lovely!

Yes, same time as usual. See you next week.

* * *

Of course, I'd love to see them. Christ, I knew it was a mistake talking to this one, now she thinks we're friends. How many bridesmaids are you having? Wow, that's a lot—oh, well, yes, little girls do love being bridesmaids. Burgundy? Oh, taffeta, really. In your bag? This it? Lovely.

Okay, so it actually is... Fabulous colour, and it rustles when you shake it. Probably sound like all the leaves fell off the trees and got swept into the church under their skirts when they walk up the aisle. But it is nice. I had her down for peach or turquoise, something icky and pastel. Dark red roses for the bride, and white flowers for the kiddies. Wearing white, of course. Oh, excuse me, ivory. Probably never had sex in her life. And the bridegroom in a burgundy waistcoat? Suits him, does it? Tall, dark and handsome. Yeah, right, and he's with stupid.

Breck looks good in dark red. Nice shirt he was wearing last week. Looks better naked, though. God, I wish it was Thursday.

* * *

So you've got some of your choir to sing at your wedding, that'll be nice. Something from a musical? No, I don't think I know that one, not really my thing. Don't play a lot of wedding music in clubs, you silly cow. Invitations posted, wow, yes, that's a big step. Jesus. Picking a china pattern, seriously, I didn't think people did that crap nowadays, oh, of course, china can be very expensive, if people want to give you just one dinner plate... God, if I ever get married I'd better get more than a plate from my fucking guests!

Heh. Could invite all the men I've ever fucked. That'd be funny!

Your hands are looking really good now. Just four more treatments to go, and you'll be done. All ready for the wedding! Yes, you'll have to find somewhere else to go for your regular walk. Really? More than a stone? Good for you!

* * *

How are you today? Last one! Missed you on Monday, but thanks for calling to cancel. No, that's no problem. Things come up, and you've been very good. Never late or anything. You want to put your engagement ring on my—

Not wearing it? Gave it back?

Gave it back? Shit, that was a good ring! Jesus, you stupid cow, if you don't want the bloke you ought at least to keep the jewellery.

No, no, of course you don't want to talk about it.

Wonder who broke it off? Him, I should think. A month to go and he suddenly realised he couldn't stand the thought of waking up next to her every day for the rest of his life. She probably sucks in bed—no, most likely she doesn't suck, hah! I give fantastic blow jobs. Everyone says so. Breck likes my blowjobs. Not sure why he wanted to see me last night, though. Not that it wasn't a pleasant change to go out to dinner, I like a man who doesn't mind dropping a hundred quid on a midweek meal, but it was weird seeing him on a Wednesday. And tomorrow and... I don't know if I want to spend the whole weekend with him. Maybe when I first met him, I'd have gone for the weekend, cause the sex was so fucking hot, but no, Breck was all, my girlfriend would find out. I'd have sworn he was married, the way he only saw me once a week. One of those wives who only puts out on Saturday night or the first of the month or something. He was always gagging for it. Not last night, though, just wanted to talk! Like I want to know all about his problems. He shut up soon enough when I put my legs round his neck.

Time for the UVA now. Quite a long exposure now—no bad effects last time, were there? Good. That's right. I know it's uncomfortable, but it's just for a few minutes. Worth it to have your hands looking pretty.

Maybe he's getting a divorce? Shit. I don't want to have him hanging around all the time. I mean, Gareth was talking about taking me to a new club on Saturday, and David's always good for Sunday afternoon. No money, but he's got a wicked tongue.

Are you all right? Is it hurting? Let me get you a nice cup of tea.


Every week, when you went to your choir practice?

Oh, fuck, I'm going to laugh.

The Challenge:

Your story should contain reference to at least three of the following prompts (it covers them all).
Sight : burgundy
Sound : rustle
Smell : chemical
Touch : scaley
Taste : tea



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